


Inescapable

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clothed/Naked, Community: daily_deviant, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks
Summary: Draco finds Harry wanking in the new 8th year dorm bathroom.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 51
Kudos: 1454
Collections: Daily Deviant





	Inescapable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalenkayaCherepakha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalenkayaCherepakha/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Inescapable (Неизбежно)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145543) by [fouruku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fouruku/pseuds/fouruku)



> Written for Daily Deviant's Kinky Kristmas 2019 for malenkayacherepakha's prompts!

“You really ought to learn how to lock a door properly, Potter.”

Harry nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of that voice. Which must be a truly comical sight, being that all of his skin is exposed. And wet. And he’s got a hard-on. Which his hand is still wrapped around. Harry turns belatedly toward the shower wall. Better arse than dick.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Harry gets out, his voice all furious heartbeat. Fight or flight mixes with ‘highly aroused’ and leaves him reeling. What is the point of having open shower stalls if the doors to the new eighth year bathroom don’t hold a locking charm? 

“Seriously, first years know _Alohomora_. Anyone could have walked in on you and found you… like this.” Malfoy doesn’t sound embarrassed to have discovered Harry in the act. There’s precious little sneer to his drawl. He sounds pleased. 

“Fine,” Harry huffs. “I suck at every spell other than _Expelliarmus_ , just like everybody says. You win. Potter stinks. You can leave now.”

“Are you joking?” There’s a satisfied smile in Malfoy’s voice that Harry would punch off his face if he weren’t so busy trying to will an erection away. “There’s a naked Harry Potter, dripping wet like a Crup in the rain, telling me what a shitty wizard he is. I mean, pinch me, I must be dreaming.” There’s the sound of his movement. Not leaving, Harry realises, flicking a glance over his shoulder. Malfoy leans against the wall now, outside Harry’s shower only far enough that he doesn’t get wet. And he keeps bloody talking. “Tell me I duel better than you, and I might have a wank, too.”

It’s simply reflex. He doesn’t think it through. Harry turns to Malfoy, face hot from anger, and bites out, “I could have you flat on the floor without even using a wand and you know it.”

This statement doesn’t have the desired effect. Malfoy seems to rather enjoy it, as his eyes light up with something resembling amusement. And then his gaze drops to the prick bobbing, still absurdly hard, from Harry’s body. 

His eyes meet Harry’s once more, he crosses his arms over his chest, and he says, “Well. Go on then.” When Harry blinks at him, Malfoy continues. “Come on, Potter, you fare pretty well against me in bathrooms. I’m sure you remember.”

Harry does remember, and he flinches at it being thrown at him now so flippantly. It’s the first time his cock has deflated even the smallest degree since Malfoy walked in on him.

Leave it to Malfoy to notice that too. He gives Harry’s prick a little frown. “Sorry, Potter. I didn’t mean to put a damper on your ardour.”

 _Didn’t he???_ thinks Harry a bit wildly. But then Malfoy interrupts even that thought.

“Tell me,” says Malfoy. “What were you thinking about before I came in?”

Harry frowns. Though, unhelpfully, his dick twitches up. “Get out, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s gaze slides down Harry’s body at its leisure. For the first time, Harry registers how Malfoy’s dressed. It’s midnight, but the git is in trousers and a button-up shirt. His shoes are still on, for bloody fuck’s sake. Harry wishes he were at least in the indignity of his pyjamas… that they’d have yellow ducks on them on something. But instead, Malfoy looks _good_. It makes Harry feel all the more naked.

“What do you fantasise about, Potter?” says Malfoy’s posh mouth. His eyes meet Harry’s again and hold him in place as easily as hands. “What gets you hard?”

“Malfoy, why the fuck…?” He doesn’t know what to tack onto the end of that question: why are you still here? why do you want to know? why the fuck are you torturing me in the middle of the night and why doesn’t it feel worse to be tortured by you? But he’s too breathless to say anything. His cock is fully hard once more, and when he holds it now, trying to shield it from Malfoy’s looking, it throbs in his palm.

Malfoy, seeing him touch it, bites his lip briefly. “Do you want me to guess?” he asks.

 _Good luck,_ Harry thinks. It had been a hodge-podge of various images and scenes, getting progressively filthier with every tug of his fist.

“I want you to…” Harry starts.

A look of mild surprise, almost alarm, springs onto Malfoy’s features. “Yes?” 

‘Leave.’ That had been the word Harry intended to say. ‘I want you to leave.’

But that’s not what he says next. He says, “... strip.”

Malfoy tries to disguise it, but he can’t… the tiny gasp between his parted lips.

Harry doesn’t know what the hell makes him keep going, some sort of nihilism, some self-destructive streak, whatever. But he does. He keeps going.

“I want you to take your fucking clothes off, get in this shower, drop to your knees, and suck me off.”

He has no idea where that came from. Except that he does. Malfoy features in his fantasies pretty often, actually, so it’s an easy image to come by. So to speak. Harry’s heart rams around in his chest like a dragon in a tea shop.

“Or better yet,” Harry says.

“Yeah?” Malfoy’s voice is quieter now, almost awed. His cheeks are flushed.

Harry swallows. “Better yet, leave your clothes on. Get your skinny arse in here so I can ruin your stupid shirt, your posh trousers… so I can come all over you.”

Malfoy replies breathlessly, but without moving, “Do it.”

And Harry realises he already is. He’s already wanking again, his hand stroking smoothly along his prick, giving a bit of a squeeze under the head, precome dribbling out. Malfoy licks his lips, watching avidly.

What the fuck is this? What the motherfucking _fuck_ is this? Harry’s beating off in front of Malfoy—and Malfoy is watching him.

“Say something else,” Malfoy breathes. Though he’s made no move to touch himself. Harry can’t even tell if he’s hard, though he thinks the bulge in Malfoy’s trousers may be a touch bigger than usual. He’s never really let himself study it.

“Erm,” he begins intelligently. All the blood has rushed out of his head. His dick is so hard it’s like polishing a pipe. For a moment he just feels it… lets his eyes drift closed, his head dropping back, getting wet in the hot spray.

“God, you’re a beast, aren’t you?’ Malfoy says into the dark behind his lids. It snaps Harry’s attention back to him. Malfoy’s eyes are roving over him, taking in every wrist movement, every tensing of Harry’s stomach, the shifting of his thighs. “I bet you get a bloke on his hands and knees and fuck like an animal.”

Unbidden, his hips begin a subtle thrusting into his fist. Malfoy’s breath contains the hint of his voice, almost like a sigh.

“Is that… what you like?” Harry manages through what has become panting. Merlin, why is he doing this? Why doesn’t he stop? Summon a towel? Finish somewhere else? Somewhere far away from Draco Malfoy. 

But the answer is right in front of him, with crossed arms and expensive shoes. The answer is that this is the most excited Harry’s ever felt. And he doesn’t want to stop in the same way he wouldn’t want to drop out of a Wronski Feint too soon.

Malfoy’s gaze touches him everywhere, openly enjoying him, and it makes Harry’s blood flash hot through his whole body. It makes him lightheaded. “I can’t…” he starts, fist going faster. He looks down at his own prick, the steady drool from the slit, the way the head flushes. “I… can’t…”

“Look at me,” Malfoy says calmly. When Harry lifts his gaze again, Malfoy is still simply leaning there, watching Harry wank furiously. “I want you to be looking at me when you finish.”

Malfoy is so cool and sharp standing there. And yet Harry now sees the dangerous flutter of his pulse at his throat, the tight grip Malfoy has on his own arms, like he’s holding himself together through sheer power of will. Like maybe he’s close to not being able to.

Nothing matters anymore but getting there. Harry lets himself look. He feels his own disintegration beneath Malfoy’s eyes, the silver reflecting ember-glows of heat despite his inaction. Harry looks him in his eye, his jaw going hard. His arm aches from how tight and fast he’s going at it. For a second, the sound of his own breathing fills the room, the humiliation of a soft grunt.

Then Malfoy, eyes steady, takes a breath and says, “Finish.”

Harry gasps at the first jolt of it, the warm spread over his thighs, the juddering force. Malfoy’s gaze is on his cock as he comes, pupils flaring, taking it in… the way Harry wrenches it from himself, the twist of his hand at the crown. And then he lifts his eyes to Harry’s face as the short-lived ecstasy transforms it. Harry has no choice but to let him see. Harry looks at him too, looks at Malfoy, and he knows Malfoy knows… that that was all it took. That there wasn’t room for anything else. Just Harry’s prick in his hand, their eyes on one another, no escape from it.

As Harry breathes hard, coming down, his hand falling away from his spent dick, Malfoy no longer looks quite so cool. He uncrosses his arms, belatedly closes his lips to swallow.

“Well?” Harry asks. “Did you get what you came for then?” His muscles unclench and a soft euphoria descends over him, an invincibility.

“A nice addition to my Pensieve phials, Potter, thanks for that.” It’s cocky, but now Malfoy struggles to meet his eyes. There are bright rosy spots on his cheeks that remind Harry of a winter day, of throwing snowballs at him from under the cloak.

Malfoy turns to go, and Harry calls after him, “That’s it? That’s all you want?”

Malfoy’s steps shutter to a halt a breath away from opening the door and walking through it. His hand sits on the doorknob, his back tense.

Harry approaches on loose legs, his heart a warm, steady throb in his chest. He’d wonder what the fuck he’s doing except that there’s no time. He presses wet up against Malfoy’s back. He breathes against his ear, “Stop me if that’s all it was.”

Malfoy braces a hand against the door. He holds his breath a moment. Then he flicks his hand over the doorknob, using a wandless locking charm Harry’s never even heard of. No bloody wonder he got in. Harry almost wants to laugh. But it comes out a low, breathy thing against Malfoy’s neck as his hand slides to Malfoy’s belt and unfastens it. Malfoy shivers, a sound aching in his throat, high and tight, as Harry unzips his trousers, reaches in, and pulls out the stiffest cock he’s ever had in his hand.

Granted the only one other than his own, but… Malfoy is hard as _fuck_.

Harry crowds him, uncaring that he’s getting Malfoy’s clothes damp, that he’s dripping down the back of Malfoy’s shirt. He closes his hand on Malfoy’s cock, and he gives a gentle pull.

Everything Malfoy held so tightly together before drops away. His mouth opens on hot, fast breaths. His eyes close. For a moment, he leans his head against Harry, the softness of his hair, curling just slightly in the humidity, tickles Harry’s jaw.

“Like this?” Harry asks, close and quiet. “Or did you want me to fuck you from behind on your hands and knees like a beast?”

“ _Ohhhh_ ,” Malfoy keens, his body weakening against Harry’s so that Harry has to wrap an arm around him to hold him up. He watches Malfoy’s prick moving through his fist, pink and sweet. His own cock swells again a little, up against Malfoy’s arse.

Then Malfoy does something unexpected, something that takes Harry aback. Without being asked, as Harry had to be, Malfoy turns his head, slitting his eyes open, and he looks at Harry. He looks first at Harry’s lips, then his gaze shifts and, body undulating as he works toward his release, he looks bravely into Harry’s eyes, a hard kernel of a dare there for Harry not to look away.

Malfoy braces both hands against the door, body rocking in Harry’s hold, and looking right in Harry’s eyes, he gives a shocked little gasp, and he comes.

It’s too much, those unsneering lips right there, Malfoy’s cock loosing warm ropes of come over his knuckles. Harry closes the distance and slips his tongue softly into Malfoy’s mouth. 

As kisses go, it’s dirty and innocent at once. It doesn’t last overly long, only the seconds it takes for Malfoy to empty his bollocks into Harry’s hand. It’s shy and filthy—tongues and breath—and when Malfoy’s finished, they pull away, no longer willing to make eye contact.

Harry doesn’t move off him right away, as Malfoy tucks his prick back into his trousers and zips himself up. Harry watches it over his shoulder, until Malfoy nudges him back with an elbow.

Then Malfoy turns, chin jutted with false bravado. Harry stands there naked and dripping. Malfoy looks like he tries not to, but then his gaze sweeps down Harry’s body and back up. “Potter,” he says, like they’ve just met on the street.

Harry breathes a disbelieving laugh. “So…” he says. He makes a helpless gesture with his hands, his palms smacking wetly against his thighs when he drops them.

“So, I suspect we might meet like this again in the future,” says Malfoy. “ _If_ you never figure out a better locking charm that is.”

Harry blinks at him and then belatedly realises he’s being felt out. “Right,” Harry says. “I mean, I’m not the fastest learner,” he lies.

“You’re abominable,” Malfoy agrees with a slight twitch to his lips, so slight Harry might have imagined it. “Well then,” he says, turning, trying the knob only to be thwarted by his own lock charm. “Damn it,” Malfoy says beneath his breath, waving a quick nullifying charm over it and trying again.

Harry is helpless not to smile at it, at the blush creeping up the back of Malfoy’s neck.

“See you next time, Potter,” Malfoy says as he yanks the door open.

“Draco,” Harry says. And now he’s hoping Malfoy turns and looks at him. His nakedness suddenly feels less like a humiliation and more like… incentive.

Malfoy turns, and as Harry hoped, his eyes get diverted (again) on their way to Harry’s face.

“What?” Malfoy bites out, finally meeting his gaze.

Harry shrugs a wet shoulder. “Maybe next time I’ll get you in there with me.”

Malfoy gives him a haughty look, slightly ruined by the glimmer of lust (or is it hope?) in his eye.

“We’ll see. Won’t we, Harry?” Then Malfoy brisks through the door, leaving Harry to close it again or not. It seems like it took more guts for him to say Harry’s name than it did for him to command Harry to ‘finish’ while he stood there slightly removed and watched.

Harry leans his head out to watch Malfoy’s arse disappear down the hall—quickly, like an escape—then, smiling more and more, Harry finally Summons a towel.


End file.
